Better Late than Never
by Odeath
Summary: "Dante, I am bleeding! Please call Lady, NOW" Her eyes were but sincere and desperate, "You're bleeding so? You look fine." His brows were raised as he tried to figure out what Trish was fussing about. "Devils don't bleed!" She protested, "Yes they do, the hell are you talking about, Trish?" he retorted. "Dante, I am bleeding through my vagina so YOU BETTER GET ME LADY NOW." DxT


_Hi everyone, this isn't my first attempt at a Dante x Trish pairing. I am not sure if this is a one shot or if I can push for another chapter or two but whatever – here goes. There aren't a lot of Dante x Trish shippers out there but sure hope this fic reaches you all. I am hopeful as well that DMC 5 will entice more people to ship these two!_

She has been staring at this abomination for a few minutes too many, perplexed, her face was a mixture of fear and confusion. And although the silence was deafening, the succession of every second passed by an old, antique clock from downstairs, which also serves as a poor excuse for an office, was surprisingly and unpleasantly audible to her already sensitive ears.

The beauty let out a deep breath; Choosing rationale over abstract feelings, She tried to recollect what she knew of the human body. She is well versed in human anatomy, and found herself to be quite confident in the study. In many ways this knowledge was a prerequisite in their chosen field of expertise, the whole crew of DMC, and plenty others in the same profession. Which area can withstand pressure, how much force can be applied on certain parts just enough to knock someone out unconscious, but not near fatal. However, this instance right here, this unwarranted predicament she found herself in requires knowledge far from what she knew of the human anatomy, the female human body, per se.

Trish was in the middle of sleep when she was suddenly roused from slumber by a sharp kind of pain which was foreign to her. Placing a hand over her stomach, desperate to get more sleep, she tried to ease the area that had been the source of her discomfort. It was a far cry from the pain inflicted during work, even farther from the call of nature. Reluctant, she headed for the bathroom anyway.

Dante's lavatory from the upstairs was surprisingly immaculate. The scent of freshly washed linen, and seafoam-bath bombs greeted her upon entry. Trish, Lady, and Pattie knew this was not how it first looked like. Without turning on the lights, she walked barefoot along the cold, marbled floor. Pulling her undergarment down to her legs as she straddled on the toilet, the porcelain was cold beneath her skin.

She at first, did not require any sleep whatsoever but Dante's force of habit was too strong that in time she realized she can also benefit from the much needed break. It was then she caught sight of what may have been the effect of the indescribable pain she had been trying to endure. It was a spot of freshly drawn blood that had stained her pink underwear, the pair happened to be a favorite. In a split second, she was very much wide awake, she checked herself religiously. Were there any open wounds within the area? Were there any external laceration or sharp pains that would have caused such? There were none. Was this internal bleeding? Did she engaged in sexual intercourse? Of that she knew all too well, she is clean and never would she involve herself in such.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, one can hear the grunts of a restless Dante. A few tosses, and a few more restless turns, He finally surrendered and made his plea. He was awakened by something _"Off"_, some ten minutes ago. Making a half-awake, half-asleep conscious effort to put this incident aside, he tried to sleep it off nonetheless; proving a few minutes after that his efforts were but futile. Groaning, with an annoyed look on his face, he forced himself up from sleep, pink traces of folded sheets were etched along the surface of his skin on his shoulders. Grazing a hand over his five-o clock, he looked over at a small bedroom clock resting on an empty lampshade table right next to his bed. The bedside table was made of dark wood, with intricate Gothic details. The silver cube of a digital clock, a gift from Lady to rid him of his fashionably late adagio, told him it was quarter passed 1 in the morning.

After a cavernous yawn, he headed towards the bathroom where he perfectly knew where his companion was. The wooden floor creaked as he shifted his weight, arms folded over his chest, his refined torso was bare. He leaned on to his side, his forearm touching the smooth surface of the bathroom door made from rich, mahogany wood.

With three soft knocks, he called out to Trish, "Babe, you alright in there?" came the raspy, bedroom voice of Dante. In her surprise, she let out a faint gasp, along with an accidental jolt. A small voltage of electricity which made its way towards the gold-plated doorknob, mildly electricuting the silver haired demon. "Shit Trish, what's with you!?"

"Oh my god, Dante I am so sorry, are you okay?" She called out in response. "You caught me by surprise!"

"Yeah... yeah.. am fine." His voice was muffled through the wooden door, shaking off the electricity that buzzed him out of his daze. He pressed his ear to get more of whatever was the commotion inside, "You need help with anything in there?", He pressed.

Trish can feel the cold sweat beading on her forehead, she did not like this one bit, this incident – a wound bad enough as it is does not need a salt in the form Dante, sarcastic are his ways but sweet to a fault. "Actually" Trish paused for a bit, then went on to finish her sentence "Can you get Lady for me?" The truth was, Trish was not oblivious to female periods, in fact this was a favorite subject of ridicule for Dante whenever Lady is giving him the sass. "You on your period or somethin'?". Of course, it made sense to her now how there were several instances where Lady would ask Trish to check her back to see if it were clean. Trish didn't think it were crucial, so she would reassure Lady, no problem.

"Lady?!" Dante's forehead creased, "Trish, it's almost 2 in the morning, what do you need Lady for?".

"Shit..." Trish but her lip, "This doesn't make any sense!" She lamented, as if the bathroom walls echoed her frustrations.

"Wait, what? You're the one who isn't making any sense." He retorted back.

"No, it's not you", Trish's tone was singsong, sweet but almost pleading. The fact was, girls - well human girls bleed; female demons, do not. And this she knew because she has surfaced on to this earth for last 16 years and not once did she encounter any form of bleeding coming out of her Dante knows where.

"You're right." She thought of a plan, she felt her cheeks getting warmer at the thought of what could happen, or perhaps it was an effect of her body suddenly bailing out on her, "Dante, can you just get me a new pair of panties? The third drawer next to the window". This invitation was unjust, and her voice was weary, but she had no choice.

As if suddenly, there were gods and wishes do come true, a mischievous grin ran across Dante's face. "Can I get to choose which color?" He was more than willing, not to mention very excited, he would never pass on this invitation from Trish when she seethed out his name, "Dante!"

"I'll take that as a yes!" He sneered. Just as he was about to turn, Trish called out to him once more, "And.. can you go to the convenience store for me?"

_So how about it, guys? Napkins and Tampons versus the Legendary Devil Hunter? _


End file.
